Sherlock, John, The Baby, and NSY
by SWHJWHOWH
Summary: NSY needs Sherlock's help with a case. They are surprised by his home-life. Johnlock, Kid!lock
1. Chapter 1

"Where _is_ he?"

"I don't know Donovan! He isn't answering the phone, and I don't have a psychic link with him," Lestrade gritted out.

They were in Lestrade's office, getting more and more frustrated by the case before them. Not only was it nearing 11:30 PM, but they were running on caffine and bickering constantly. Had been for most of the day.

The case was a simple murder, or what looked like one, except for the toxicology report that said that there were no foreign substances in the victim, one Mr. Darni.

Shane Darni was a 45 year old construction worker who was 6' tall, Caucasian, heterosexual, married and had twins, one boy and one girl. What made his death suspicious was the irritated injection mark on his left arm his wife swears wasn't there the last night he was alive.

The whole team was on it, all but Sherlock, who they'd been trying to contact for the last seven hours. No matter what Donovan thought of Sherlock personally, she acknowledged the fact that they needed his help. Especially because there was a note, saying there would be another death every five days if the case went on unsolved.

At that moment, there was a strong knock on the door, before it opened abruptly, admitting Anderson, his usual smirk suspiciously absent from his face. Both Donovan and Lestrade knew that meant that he hadn't found anything new.

"When's the freak getting here?" Anderson growled, unhappy with the situation.

"He's not coming. We still can't reach him, but I'm going over to get him," Lestrade finally decided. "Is anyone coming with me?"

"No, we'll stay here and go over everything one more time," Donovan decided for both of them.


	2. Chapter 2

When Lestrade ran up the stairs, he was expecting to find Sherlock in some sort of drug induced stupor or deep in the maze of his mind palace. What he was _not_ expecting upon bursting through the door was a laughing group of four, among them, Sherlock. The other members of this happy gathering were Mrs. Hudson, and an unknown man holding a giggling toddler, about 18 months old. The man looked like he was about 38 years old, on the short side, and had a friendly, welcoming aura about him.

Because of his loud entrance, three of the four people in the room, including the baby, had turned towards the door to see the newcomer. Only Sherlock stayed focused on the toddler, already knowing who was stomping up a storm. There was a moment of heavy silence while everyone absorbed the situation until Lestrade broke it awkwardly with, "Sherlock? Um…I was trying to reach you. We could really use your help with a case."

"Well, obviously I was busy. Feel free to see yourself out."

"Sherlock, be nice," reprimanded gently the unknown man while getting up, holding the baby. "You must be Lestrade then. I'm John. John Watson."

"Nice to meet you, John," Lestrade said hesitantly, "Eh, how exactly do you know Sherlock?"

John just laughed quietly while looking over at Sherlock with an expression full of meaning. Sherlock huffed and sulked his way into the kitchen, grabbing the baby on his way past. Through the door he heard the explanation leave John in his steady voice: "Well, I'm his husband actually, and that's our son, Oliver."

As expected, the next minute was dead silent until Lestrade turned to Mrs. Hudson and inquired if this was true. Of course, she confirmed that it was, after which, he called out, "Sherlock, _get in here._"


	3. Chapter 3

"Sherlock, _get in here._"

Even in the living room, John could hear his husband's sulk. The murmurings, the kettle hitting the stovetop just a bit too hard, the cupboards slamming shut. Though he couldn't see him, John could imagine the eye roll and the faces Sherlock was throwing at Olly.

When the baby started giggling, John knew Sherlock was going to crack.

He was proved right by the soft sigh and grumbling that preceded the entrance of Sherlock holding the baby. The soft-ish expression on Sherlock's face morphed into frustration, indignation and determination, but also screamed _protective_.

"What?"

"What do you mean, _what_, Sherlock! Do you want to explain how you have a husband? Why I never knew you had a child?" There was just enough hurt in Lestrade's voice to make the others in the room feel awkward.

"Wasn't relevant," Sherlock spitted out.

"It wasn't _relevant_? How was it not—Okay, fine, so you have a family." Lestrade said, knowing that the detective would just shut down completely if he continued to berate him.

"Yes."

"That's it, Sherlock? How long have you been married?" Lestrade said.

"John and I have been married for three years, but we've known each other since high school."

"And Oliver?"

At this, the detective turned both extremely defensive and protective. "What about him?"

"How old is he?" Lestrade inquired.

"17 months, two weeks, three days and roughly six hours."

"Oh," was the only way Lestrade could respond.

On the one hand, the DI could not even imagine Sherlock in a relationship with anyone, especially a man, let alone having a child, but on the other hand, he could see the invisible threads between Sherlock, John and Olly. It was the way Sherlock had moved partially in front of John as if to protect him from Lestrade's questions. The way his hands surrounded the baby, as though he was the most precious thing he had ever held, and the way John was looking up at both his husband and child, with love, understanding, and amusement. Lestrade was slowly beginning to acknowledge that he would have to change his views of the antisocial detective.

Everyone in the room jumped a bit when Lestrade burst into laughter, exclaiming, "On the one day they decided not to come! Oh god, this is too good!"

John's smile grows a bit, having heard stories of both Donovan and Anderson. Thinking about them reminds John of why Lestrade came over in the first place. As it's almost time to feed Olly, John and Mrs. Hudson take him into the kitchen so the detectives could talk.


End file.
